Hwoarang watched as Jin's hand flexed and trembled inches from his face, inch-long talons threatening to dip down and slice open his throat if he even blinked wrong. But it wasn't a gesture to harm or to intimidate; Jin was trying to regain control. It took a moment of bravery, but finally Hwoarang peeled his eyes from the shaking appendage to peer up into Jin's face. It was twisted into a mask of pain, eyes shut, lips peeled back from his teeth in a pained grimace. The black lines that crawled across his face faded in and out of existence with every shaky breath the young man took.

"Jin," Hwoarang managed to whisper, finding it harder to breathe under the bulky Japanese's weight, "Jin, fight it, damn it. You're going to kick my ass in the tournament, right? Not this … Jin, are you listening to me?"

"He is not listening to you!" Jin's voice came out as an unearthly shriek of rage, black lines and glowing eye flaring open in one last attempt to regain control. The Korean choked on his own fear, twisting his head to the side as Jin's arms came up, as if to strike the final blow. There was a rustle of wings and the sound of rushing air, and then silence.

Hwoarang didn't realize he was holding his breath until the seconds began to tick by in silence. He wasn't dead; he could still feel his heart pounding a steady cadence in his chest. His eyes had been shut so tightly tears began to form at their edges. He exhaled and opened his eyes at the same time, turning his head with pained slowness to look at the still figure hovering over him.

Jin had his eyes shut and his head bowed until his chin was resting on his chest. The black wings that shadowed him were gone, as were the crawling lines across his nose and forehead. The eye had recessed into nothingness. All that was left was a broken shell of a human, twitching with restraint and self-loathing. Upon lingering examination, tears dripped from Jin's black lashed lids and made glimmering trails down his cheeks. A tear dripped from his jaw and landed on Hwoarang's collarbone, causing the redhead to jump, startled by the display of self-control and unabashed emotion.

Almost immediately, Jin jumped into motion, crawling off of Hwoarang without a word of apology or protest. He hardly found the time to find his footing, half-crawling, half walking over to his bed with feverish intensity. He had to get away. Somewhere, anywhere, but nowhere was far enough to hide him from himself. Jin collapsed at the foot of his bed as Hwoarang watched, too shocked to make a motion to help, too shaken up to find his voice. With only his elbows propped up on the bed itself, Jin took a few deep breaths and hung his head, then went still.

It seemed like an eternity before Hwoarang managed to whisper, "Jin?" but he was answered with silence. He sat up and tried again, slowly inching his way towards the seemingly unconscious raven-haired youth. "Jin? Damn you if you're asleep … you've got a few questions to answer."

Jin's breathing came deep and even. He was fast asleep. Hwoarang sighed. "Damned indeed."

"Look into me and despair, Jin Kazama. How long will you fight something that never dies? Awaken you pitiful human. Face yourself. Loathe your disgusting existence. I am eternal."

Jin sat up with a start, gasping for breath. Again, he found his body coated in a fine sheen of sweat. Was again even an option? Had he been dreaming of waking up and encountering his old rival? He was still in his bed, still in his pajamas, the sunlight still trying to filter its way through the thick hotel room curtains. It couldn't have been a dream. It was all too real…

The sound of his toilet flushing caused Jin to yelp in surprise. Hwoarang poked his head out of the bathroom, one eyebrow lifted in question. "Please tell me you don't have a fear of toilets."

Jin didn't know whether or not to cry or to laugh at the Korean's attempt at humor. He simply stared slack jawed, and received a stare in reply. It hadn't been a dream. Had he really assaulted Hwoarang as he lost control of his devil?

"You're looking at me like you're seeing a ghost, Jin," the Korean stepped from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a complimentary towel, "Listen, if you're going to apologize, don't … just…"

"Shut up, Hwoarang, just shut up. Please," it was a plea, not a command. "Now you see what you've gotten yourself into? What I did, what I am? Are you happy?" Jin's last words came out as a hissed whisper.

"Happy that I almost got myself killed by whatever it is you are?" Hwoarang snapped in reply, shaking the towel at the defeated Japanese youth before him, who hung his head like a wounded child, "Of course I'm not happy, or even slightly pleased. But I had the stupidity to stick around after you went out like a light, making sure you didn't do anything else stupid, like attack a random person who wouldn't be quite as understanding." The lie seemed to go over quite well.

"Understanding? You don't understand, you couldn't. You can't even sympathize."

Hwoarang's face grew red with rage, from collarbone to the top of his forehead. He threw the towel he was holding to the ground. "Even now, you can't even attempt a single thank you, you ungrateful bastard! You sit there and feel sorry for yourself, wallowing in your own misery! You're not the person I knew, the one I remembered fighting two years ago. That Jin Kazama didn't quit. He was worthy of fighting me. And look how you've changed. You make me sick, you pathetic excuse of a man! You're hardly worth my time."

Jin was struck speechless. He continued staring at the enraged redhead, who had ranted himself into breathlessness. He couldn't even meet his rival's gaze, instead looking at the floor in defeat. Perhaps Hwoarang was right. He was too weak to fight him, the devil, Heihachi, his father, anyone. "If I'm such a worthless case, then why are you still standing there?" Jin murmured tiredly.

"Because I thought you might fight what I said. But by just sitting there like a worthless lump, you're only proving my point to yourself. You think I'm right."

"I think you're just enjoying taunting me."

"Then why don't you get up and make me shut up? Stand up and kick my ass! C'mon, pretty boy! Get up!" Hwoarang kicked the air for emphasis, "Get up!"

Jin turned to glare, only to be assaulted by a bar of hotel soap that ricocheted painfully off the side of his head. Hwoarang stood in the small hallway, tossing another small bar of soap up and down in his hand.

"Get out of my room," Jin hissed, pointing to the door, "now."

The Korean smirked. "Make me."

"I'm not going to fall for your childish little games, you immature, ignorant…"

"Sticks and stones, Jin. People in glass houses…throw soap!" Hwoarang reeled back and let the complimentary hotel accessory fly through the air, on a crash course with Jin's head. It seemed like the projectile was going to hit its mark, when Jin's hand snapped up and caught the offensive cleaning product only a foot from his head. His lips curled up over his teeth as he crushed the soap in his fist.

Hwoarang sighed and shook his head. "If you have to get angry before you fight back, you're going to lose. I don't have to tell you that," he began to slowly walk towards the seething Jin, "I don't care what you want, or what you are. You need to get up," cautiously, Hwoarang sat on the edge of the bed.

Jin sighed and rolled over until his back was to the tall redhead, "Why the hell do you care?"

"Because I'm human. Just like you. Besides, we have a rematch to take care of."

The raven-haired youth glanced over his shoulder, "You're right. We do."

"I'll see you there, then," Jin could almost hear the grin in Hwoarang's voice. He didn't quite understand why the Korean was so eager to get beaten up again. Oh well.

The bed shifted as Hwoarang stood, slowly making his way to the door. "Oh, Hwoarang?"

He turned, one red eyebrow arched in question. "What, damn-?"

A ball of soap flew across the room and connected solidly with Hwoarang's nose before he could complete his statement. "You son-of-a-bitch!" he yelled, crumpling over with a hand over his newfound injury.

Jin laughed. Hwoarang bled. Life was looking up.